Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Month: November 2019

  • Poem: Three Pupils in a Pod – 20/11/19

    Poem: Three Pupils in a Pod – 20/11/19

     Three pupils in a pod,
     one, two, three, 
     thump!
      
     Carefully observing,
     wondering where they’re going,
     travels in life, 
     so far yonder,
     if not careful they’ll find
     much peril before them. 
      
     These wary, cautious eyes,
     have seen more than they can stand,
     they have witnessed atrocious sufferings,
     and several sleights of hand.
      
     Because who better to record
     than a triplet set of eyes?
     To silently catalogue and observe
     but with no lips to tell the truth,
     to dispel the convolutions from
     certain criminals’ lies. 
      
     All they can do is watch,
     they cannot even shift or move,
     only blinking helplessly,
     clearing their vision,
     making their lenses lubricated
     to continue in their method of being 
     utterly silent witnesses. 
      
     But what use are eyes 
     when without a mouth 
     they cannot share? 
     Only storing their visions
     without a sense of concern
     let alone ample or adequate care.
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem: My Peasant Fairy Godmother – 18/11/19

    Poem: My Peasant Fairy Godmother – 18/11/19

     My peasant fairy godmother,
     so round and delicate and wise,
     an orb and an orb unto herself,
     she flies to me through the skies.
      
     To provide me assistance,
     to provide me with hope
     she waves her hands and magically 
     provides me with her delicate scope
      
     of wisdom and inner strength
     of power and enhanced desire
     she touches my nose with her glistening wand
     and I cry out:
     “I can finally leave home!”
     I possess the power. 
      
     Because my desire, my mission,
     is to not leave to meet my prince,
     my desire is to be self-sufficient, 
     to create a world, a home for myself,
     among the whistling trees,
     beneath the glistening stars,
     underneath the warming moon
     which smiles upon me with ease.
      
     Now I need not run from my duties,
     of attending to many others,
     of being on my hands and knees,
     cleaning up after my sisters.
      
     I now know I have the power to 
     walk away from the muck,
     it is not my responsibility,
     I can now work Life out on my own,
     according to my own internal clock. 
      
     It is brave of me to do away
     with the burdening system that kept me away
     from obtaining a sense of freedom
     where I was always downtrodden.
      
     In my new rich silk and satin blue gown
     I will run from the lot of them,
     My life is now my own.
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Into the Mirror – 16/11/19

    Poem: Into the Mirror – 16/11/19

     He stares at himself: 
 who is this being he has become?
 He barely recognises the shapes, the forms,
 the features which make up his fasmall-poem-mobilece.
 Now, they are a conglobulation,
 his eyes scan the scene,
 a personal level of understanding
 of what is occurring beneath the surface of 
 lucid dreaming.
  
 His mind is in tatters,
 his anger explosive, 
 A feeling of overwhelming loss of control,
 his triggers, oh, those triggers.
 Abounding his sense of being,
 ripping his heart out, 
 either broken or whole;
 he’s completely lost all sense of control. 
  
 His face now shape-shifts, 
 as though a desert mirage,
 strangely he feels a tip-tip-tapping at his head,
 his crown,
 and he wonders at these, 
 are they delusions?
 Or are they borne in reality?
 He cannot be himself right now,
 because his understanding of who he is
 is no longer so upstanding. 
  
 He pierces his gaze into his right eye
 and then the left,
 hoping to calm himself
 or at least instill a sense of order —
 perhaps rigid or subtle
 but wholly still there.
  
 He knows what process he is undergoing,
 For him, it is brought on by stress, 
 A psychosis long having been in the making,
 He is in the eye of the cycle now.
  
 He won’t tell anyone close to him 
 what he is experiencing,
 the suffering and angst that he is feeling,
 because that is how he is, 
 he’s introverted and with inner feeling,
 not wanting to burden others with
 his sense of broken state of being.
  
 No matter how much he might yearn for
 a level of understanding
 or care,
 he does not receive this because of his situation
 others are not aware.
  
 They are not sure what is wrong with him
 but his anger, oh his anger does give rise
 to something purely animalistic,
 and now having revealed his state of mind to another,
 the understanding ticks over, it arrives in ample time. 
  
 He is strong for holding himself quietly
 while he attempts and succeeds at fixing himself,
 but when it comes to issues of mental health,
 one must not take it upon themselves to reduce dosages,
 essentially self-medicating oneself.
  
 The man now in the mirror with his mediation is strong,
 he has permitted the real being to return, 
 he’s gladdened his essence has come back along,
 no longer having to control the 
 rising sense of discomfort and lack of control 
 he had experienced as a whole. 
  
 © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poetry: The Farthest Light Away – 14/11/19

    Poetry: The Farthest Light Away – 14/11/19

    She glows from within. Her thoughtful, ponderous eyes focus on that which is unfocused, the worldly others farther away, further, further, but of the complexities they hold, she projects them from her sense of being, internally of them she is freeing.

    Her connection with the light may not make any sense to others, those observers, those outsiders, but she does not need to prove, nor feel a need to speak of her faith in the light above. She is guided by the unfocused worldly others, dragged forth, her eyes grasping, caressing their views, as she allows them to rest within her being, to sink gently inside.

    To wholly accept the notion of something that cannot be entirely shown but can be existentially felt either shows a brave blind trust or something special entrusted to us. Because our viewing of her faith, so fair and knowledgeable without having a presence behind it at all is something of great circumstance, this day, this night, never will her faith fall.

    She trusts the light, the beings within her adoring eyes, the scene before her that no one, nothing, can take away from. She is special in her acceptance, the light means more to her than to those who nay-say about her beliefs, and incomplete to complete has her life become because of her ability to dare to dream and believe.

    © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.   

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  • Poem: Coulda, Woulda, Should – 12/11/19

    Poem: Coulda, Woulda, Should – 12/11/19

     As I sit upon that mountain top
     of coulda, woulda, should, 
     I wonder to myself what would happen
     if I actually would with my actions do. 
      
     The methods of my madness,
     the truth among the omission of lies,
     my projected sense of attitude
     determined to succeed before
     all sets of eyes.

     Where the observers sit awaiting,
     watching carefully as I traverse the
     steps in my life where 
     I should have been filled 
     with embarrassment and regret.
      
     The moments where I could have wished 
     to have wiped clean the visions and those times
     but the truth is I don’t want to wipe them away,
     they are history,
     they are part of what made me 
     here and who I am today.
      
     Without such experiences 
     who would have known whether I’d have
     travelled down a differing though 
     similar path and be worse off in my 
     current version of today?
      
     Best to work with what I know, 
     And cherish the way my life has turned out
     upon this promising open path.

    © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poetry: An Eyesore – 11/11/19

    Poetry: An Eyesore – 11/11/19

     Herein lies this creature, 
     the cause for great alarm. 
     Idly he stares at you, dead socket, 
     your heart beats, skips and thumps.
      
     You’ve never seen a thing like this,
     the glassy glossy sheen is making you spin,
     there’s nothing living 
     beneath the surface, surely?

     Though you’re still frightened,
     this creature makes you feel so 
     nervous and utterly poorly. 
      
     His colours may confuse you,
     befuddle you as you observe,
     the creature now scuttles here and there
     towards you: 
     Oh my, why, what nerve!
      
     You recoil instinctively,
     you don’t want a thing to do with him,
     then with a running leap he jumps
     and lands upon you,
     isn’t this an interesting scene?
      
     Snuffling like an adorable pet,
     he engulfs your face with licks and kisses;
     it’s a free for all,
     there is not a section of your skin that
     his kisses and licks are missing.
      
     Then you realise this creature is 
     actually simply misunderstood,
     taken for face value, 
     as many before him had, and after him would. 
      
     His appearance is nothing he can alter,
     and when it comes to observing something
     different and unique,
     I hope you will not again falter. 
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. 
    All rights reserved.  

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  • Shout Out: Would anybody like to help me, please?

    Hello to all my lovely readers. I hope you’re having a fabulous day or evening, wherever in the world you are. I was wondering whether any of you would be able to help me out with something. I don’t like asking for help sometimes because I don’t want to be a bother, but I thought maybe some of you, even one or two would be in the position of being able to help.

    As most of you will probably have seen on my site, I’ve published Our Whimsical World: Illustrated Stories late last month. It’s a collection of thirty-three short stories employing rhythm and rhyme, which are humorous, light-hearted or thought-provoking, with hidden messages for the readers to absorb.

    I would love if anyone who has read it or is contemplating reading it, if you could, to write me a short review of it to be posted on my page, Goodreads, or some such. I could review your collection, too, if you have one! Or we could do Interview the Author or Poet for our pages!

    Here is a link which will show you the blurb and a clearer cover image than the one above.

    If you would like to help me out or work together, could you please comment below or contact me? Thanks for taking the time to read this.

    🙂

  • Poetry: Eyes All Around – 09/11/19

    Poetry: Eyes All Around – 09/11/19

    Eyes all around, I can sense their presence lurking over me. Eyes all around, I feel the pupils burning into me. A sense of understanding that somebody is watching; I dart my eyes to the left of me, and there he is blatantly staring. I smile briefly to let him know I knew of his watching. A feeling of being observed makes me feel more than slightly aware, why is it these pairs are watching, as I travel from here to there? What is it about me that makes me special to their vision? This isn’t paranoia at all, their practices need intervention.

    Do they know who I am? Or am I simply an interesting spectacle? I’m not dressed in anything attention-seeking, to bring forth their overt sense of observation. I am in the usual place I can be found at often, simply shopping for groceries, snacks, then off to the car. I want to ask that man what was it that made me so interesting to him that he had to blatantly stare, as though he was waiting for me to become aware, of his interest, should I have glared? In hindsight I know inherently that a glare is no solution, not even from afar.

    I know what paranoia feels like, I’ve been there, experienced it, then tenfold before, this is nothing like that whatsoever. I simply know that rumours might be abounding, and of this, I can’t do anything more than ignore.

    © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Something Different: A Little Prompt – 08/11/19

    Something Different: A Little Prompt – 08/11/19


    I’ve decided to try something different with this post. I’d love if you could join me! When you first see this drawing of mine, what springs to mind?

    Could you write a few words, sentences or a little paragraph of your own story to fit this hungry, hungry birdie?

    I thought it might be fun to interact this way rather than me posting my thoughts relentlessly. I hope you can share with me the results of your creative minds! 🙂

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  • Poem: An Old Friend – 07/11/19

    Poem: An Old Friend – 07/11/19

     Flowery, happy moments, 
     where our moods and our words 
     would bounce and leap around,  
     our eyes playfully locking with the other’s, 
     as we smiled and pranced, 
     our voices singing in unison, 
     such a joyous sound. 
      
     I remembered how happy we were, 
     where we would spend all 
     our spare time together; 
     you’d visit me in the various locations 
     in which I’d lived, 
     and my goodness, the fun and mischief  
     we’d always seem to find.
      
     The days and nights which were 
     happily managed,
     when the sun arose 
     it was too soon for the dawn.
      
     We would explore the world in its 
     exciting realm of darkness, 
     the music thumping loudly in our ears, 
     and our eyes dancing this way and that
     searching for other people 
     to approach and learn more of.
      
     I’d always be too shy to get onto 
     the floor for a dance, 
     but you loved to move so fluidly,
     your limbs shifting so freely.
      
     But, we grew apart,
     for each of us there were differing trends,
     different paths we chose:
     some to be proud of,
     others not so much,
     but in the end, 
     there were decisions and results 
     of great commendation. 
      
     Because we both succeeded
     in our own ways,
     and while we do not speak, 
     and perhaps we will never 
     see one another again,
     at least I can hold the memories in my heart,
     strong, proud and true,
      
     that I had someone,
     a former great friend in my life who had 
     stuck around longer than     
     most of the people
     who were in my world had proven to.

     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock also known 
     as Alice Well. All rights reserved. 
      
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